


You Guys Are Dead, Right?

by silversh (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-01-20
Packaged: 2018-01-09 09:20:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/silversh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So Sam and Dean Winchester are dead, or at least they were. Luella and her dad, Cam, two hunters, stop in Wyoming and receive a phone call from the dead Sam Winchester inviting them to dinner. This is crazy, right? Dead people just don't invite you to dinner out of the blue...</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Guys Are Dead, Right?

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update every other Saturday. I'm not sure how long this is going to end up being, but nothing too lengthy.

“Omaha, Nebraska. There’s some article here that says a girl claimed to have had dinner with her dead boyfriend. Seems like it’s up our alley, huh?”

I look up from my laptop to my dad. It’s been a slow week. Our last hunt was last Wednesday in Oregon. A common angry spirit. Nothing hard to handle. My dad is shuffling through some newspapers across the table from me, sipping on some beer. He sighs and sets down the newspaper in his left hand, still holding on to his beer. “Well, sounds like something, at least. We’ll head out tonight, after we get some dinner.”

He gets up, taking his beer with him. He heads over to the two motel beds saying, “Start packing, honey. Think of what you want to eat.”

I get up, closing the laptop. The motel we’re staying at his of average quality; musty smelling, hard beds, and cable TV. It’s the dead middle of summer, so it’s blistering hot outside. At least this dump has air conditioning. I walk over to my bed which has actually started to grow on me. I like the red plaid cover, it’s soft unlike most of the other bed covers the motel beds have. My duffle bag is sitting on the ground next to the bed. I pick it up and start packing in what’s been taken out. 

“Does mexican sound good to you?” I ask my dad.

“Yeah, sure. Where at?”

“There’s a little place called “La Hacienda” by the drug store.”

My dad nods, sitting down on his bed as he finishes putting a shirt in his bag. He’s a tall man, about 6’2, a nice build for and old man. Well, he’s not old, but I’m sixteen and anybody older than 45 seems old to me. He’s got stubble growing in and his dark hair is in a ruffled mess from running his hands through it so much. He’s wearing his usual get up; jeans, a simple tee, and boots. I can see his knife in his back pocket, unnoticeable to the average person walking past, but as a hunter you learn to scope out weapons. My dad and me, we’ve been hunting by ourselves since I was about thirteen. We’re pretty close.

“How about I let you drive, huh? Get used to driving the ol’ truck.”

I smile, excited that he’s actually offering to let me drive. “Dude, yes!”

My dad smiles, giving a small laugh. “Good. I need you to be able to drive when I need to get some sleep on the road.”

“Oh, I see. Using me to your advantage. Smart, old man, smart,” I tease him.

“That’s what daughters are for,” he teases back, patting the stop of my head as he walks past me. He grabs the keys to the truck and tosses them to me. “Let’s bounce.”

I catch the keys in midair. “Do not ever say that again. I don’t even say that.”

My dad smiles that smile that dads give when they’ve just made the best dad joke ever. I roll my eyes and grab his bag from his bed, tossing it to him. I then grab mine and head out the door. 

\---

The mexican restaurant is a quaint little place that has spanish music playing overhead. The walls are painted a vibrant orange that hurts to look directly at for more than a few seconds. My dad and I argue about whether the Colts will be better without Peyton Manning or not. I of course let my dad win the argument. I gotta let the old man at least think he’s still got game.

We leave a tip at the table and head out of the restaurant and back out to the truck. The truck, or “Marv” as my dad calls it. He’s had Marv ever since he met my mom. He says she named it after they went to a bar and met some guy named Marvin. It’s a crazy story.

“Do you still keep up with Rylee?” my dad asks me once I get settled into the driver’s seat. I rev up the engine and start our way towards Omaha.

“Not really. Last time I talked to her was a couple weeks ago, back in Kansas. Said she and her brother were heading somewhere out east. A wendigo, I think.”

“Wendigos. Those nasty bastards. Well, I hope she’s okay. She seemed like a nice gal.”

“Yeah.” I met Rylee on a hunt in Kansas. Her brother and her were hunting a demon and me and my dad just happened to be passing through. We stayed with them for about a month there in their house. She’s probably the closest thing I’ve gotten to a friend in what seemed like a very long time. I told her I would keep in touch, but I haven’t spoken to her since we left.

We drive in silence, the radio the only noise. My dad is reading a book, using his phone as a light. I try to get a glance at the cover and find that he’s reading “The Fault In Our Stars”.

“No, really? Oh my god, dad. You are such a teenage girl.”

He looks over at me, glaring. “Don’t laugh at me. It’s a good book.”

I laugh and say, “True, true. You know they’re making a movie? We’ve gotta go see it.”

“Really? Hmph, I hope they pick a handsome one for this Augustus fellow. I imagine him as kinda like a Zac Efron guy, you know?”

“Yeah, like I said, a teenage girl. But no, not Zac Efron. Augustus is more like a Josh Hutcherson if you ask me.”

My dad sighs sarcastically, trying to imitate a dramatic teen. “No way, Efron would totally be hot walking the streets of Amsterdam.”

Unable to hold it in, I laugh and try avoid swerving off the road in my fits of laughter. My dad is still trying to imitate a teenage girl, bashing his eyelashes and stuff. 

“Stop, stop! You’re gonna make me drive off the road!”

He stops and laughs at me, putting the book in the space between our seats. He sighs and leans back in his seat, closing his eyes. “I’ll be dreaming of the dreamy Zac Efron.”


End file.
